


As the Years Go by

by LucRambles



Series: Felix Birthday Week 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (but Glenn lives here!), (it's really just Sylvain being flirty), (nothing major), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Birthday, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucRambles/pseuds/LucRambles
Summary: Glimpses of Felix's birthday's over the years.(Rated T for implied adult content and Felix's filthy, filthy mouth).Felix Birthday Week Day 1: Birthdays/Celebrations
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Felix Birthday Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642051
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82
Collections: Felix Birthday Week 2020





	As the Years Go by

**Author's Note:**

> SO I heard there's a Felix week for his birthday? I knew I had to jump on that.  
> I kinda rushed to finish this but honestly it's already 9k words and Felix's birthday ends in forty-five minutes and I'm tired so just take it. I'll go back and proofread later but rn sorry for any mistakes.  
> Happy birthday you stinky little Sauske.
> 
> Small Disclaimers:  
> -I have no idea how to write kids, so sorry if the early years seem off.  
> -Warning for very small implied mentions of abuse (Sylvain's here so).  
> -Felix is autistic and has a meltdown in one section. While I am neurodivergent, I'm not autistic, and the only experience I have is when I've seen my QPP have and recover from meltdowns and nonverbal episodes. If anyone has any critiques on how I wrote him, feel free to let me know!

**_Zero_ **

It was raining the night of February nineteenth, when the three members of the Fraldarius family piled into their car and rode off to the local hospital. The father drove as quickly as he could without getting pulled over, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching his wife’s hand. Her contractions weren’t severe yet, but she still let out a noise of pain every few minutes.

A quick detour was made on the way, and the pair’s son was dropped off at a friend’s house for the evening.

“Why can’t I come?” he complained. “I wanna see the baby!”

“You’ll see the baby after they arrive,” the father said.

“I wanna come!” The child whined.

“I already told you, the doctor’s and I are going to be very busy while mommy is having the baby, no one will be able to keep an eye on you.”

“I won’t wander off.”

The father shook his head. Winning an argument with a stubborn four-and-a-half-year-old was nigh impossible. “Uncle Lambert will bring you tomorrow morning, okay? And I’ll call him as soon as Mommy has the baby.”

The child pouted as they pulled up to a large three-story house, where a tall blonde man stood near the front door. He waved to the father as the car slowed to a stop.

“Promise I can come tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, I promise. Now go to Uncle Lambert. Maybe he’ll let you hold baby Dimitri while you’re here.” He turned around in his seat and ruffled his son’s hair. “I love you, be good.”

“I will. Love you too.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” the mother chimed.

The father shouted a quick, “thank you!” out the window to his friend as his son ran up to the front door, eager to get out of the rain. Then they were off again, arriving at the hospital about ten minutes later.

The mother’s labor was a long one, lasting long into the night. “They’re going to be a stubborn one,” she said. “Glenn took all night too.”

“I don’t know if I can handle another Glenn,” the father joked. “We’ll never win an argument again.

It was in the early hours of the morning of February twentieth that the mother finally delivered her second child. He was smaller than the first had been, but he seemed healthy, and there hadn't been any complications. The father called his friend with the good news, as promised, and he showed up with the son a little later.

The son ran over to his parents the moment he entered the room, standing on his tiptoes to see over the hospital bed. “Mommy had the baby?”

“She did,” the father said.

“Do you want to meet your brother, Glenn?” the mother asked.

The boy nodded vigorously. His father sat in a chair beside the bed and lifted his son onto his lap. From his new vantage point, he was able to see the bundle in his mother’s arms. He was mostly swaddled in blankets, but his red face and two tiny fists were open to the air. He already had a few wisps of hair, dark like his brother and father, and when the baby looked up, it was his mother’s eyes looking back at him.

“What’s his name?” The son asked.

“Felix.”

**_Three_ **

“Go on Felix, say ‘hello’.”

Felix shook his head, ducking further behind his father’s leg.

“Felix…”

The toddler made a small distressed noise and shook his head. Rodrigue sighed. “He’s shy,” he said to the blonde man in front of him. Then to Felix, “Fe, it’s Uncle Lambert, you know Uncle Lam.”

Felix stubbornly remained in his hiding spot.

“Hi!”

Felix jumped back with a yelp when someone beside him spoke. And scuttled to hide on the other side of his father’s leg. He cautiously peeked around, then relaxed slightly at the familiar face. “Eeee!” he chirped, unable to say “Dima” or “Dimitri,” yet, and having trouble even with “De.”

“Hi!” Dimitri said again.

“Dimitri, do you want to give Felix his present?” Lambert asked.

Felix perked up at the mention of presents, and Dimitri squeaked, “Yes!” The child’s father handed him a little bag, which he took and proudly held out to Felix. The younger boy took the bag and looked inside it. He let out a happy squeal as he pulled out a stuffed pig, hugging it tightly to his chest, then pulling Dimitri into the hug as well.

“What do you say, Felix?” Rodrigue prompted.

Felix smiled and gave Lambert and Dimitri and thumbs-up.

“Can you use your words? Say ‘thank you’.”

Felix pouted. He didn’t like talking much—words were hard. And they should be able to understand that the “smile-thumbs-up” combo meant “thank you,” because smiles meant “happy” and thumbs-up meant “good.” But his father waited, and Felix supposed he better try.

“Th—thaaaa, aaaank y—y—you,” he managed.

“You’re welcome Felix,” Lambert said and reached down to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Happy birthday. How old are you now?”

Felix held up three fingers, and Lambert gasped in mock surprise. “You’re three already? You’re getting so big!”

Felix pointed at Dimitri, then held up three fingers again.

Lambert chuckled. “Yes, Dimitri is getting big too. Before we know it, you two are going to be bigger than Rodrigue and I.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rodrigue said. “I feel like _Glenn_ was just born the other day, let alone Felix.” He glanced down at the two toddlers. “Felix, why don’t you show Dimitri your new toys?”

Felix let out a happy squeak, then grabbed Dimitri’s hand and pulled him into the living room, stuffed pig still tucked firmly under his other arm.

**_Five_ **

“Hey, are you okay?”

Felix looked up from his stop on the ground, sniffling and wiping at his tear-streaked face. Above him stood another boy, a little older and a little taller than him, with shockingly bright red hair. His hazel eyes were sad when he looked at Felix. The younger boy tried to speak, but his breathing was still too shaky. He shook his head instead.

The other boy crouched down and frowned. “It’s your birthday?” he asked, pointing at the button Felix’s teacher had given him, fastened to the front of his shirt. “Happy Birthday!” was written in colorful bubble letters, on a green background with spots of color meant to be confetti. Felix, still unable to form words, simply nodded.

“Well, you shouldn’t be crying then,” the other boy said. “No one’s s’pposed to make you sad on your birthday.”

Felix just started shaking his head again, tears welling back up. He stopped when the other boy held something out to him, and he saw it was a wrinkled napkin. “Clean your face and breathe deep, it’ll help you stop. It works when mean people make me cry.”

Felix stared at him for a moment, then took the napkin and wiped the tear streaks from his cheeks, then loudly blew his nose. After a few minutes he had calmed down enough that he could breathe regularly again, and the flow of tears and snot had stopped. “Feel better?”

Felix nodded. The other boy smiled. “What made you so sad anyway?”

Felix looked across the room, where a group of kids were playing a board game together. “No play,” Felix said and pointed at them.

“No play?” the other boy echoed.

“No play,” Felix repeated. He stared at the wall for a moment and his face scrunched up, like he was thinking hard. When he spoke again, it looked like he had to physically force out each word. “Th… they w… won… won’t let m—me, me play.”

The other boy pouted. “But it’s your birthday! You should be able to play whatever you want.”

Felix shook his head. “Meanies.”

The other boy chuckled. “Yeah, big meanies.” A beat, then, “Hey, why don’t you come play with me instead? I brought my Legos, we’ll have lots more fun than them.”

That finally coaxed a smile from the younger boy. “Y—you hah, ha… hah Legos?”

“Yeah! C’mon, I’ll show you.” The other boy stood up and held his hand out to Felix. The younger boy grabbed it tightly, and held on even after he was on his feet. “Oh, I’m Sylvain by the way, I’m in second grade. What’s your name?”

“Felix. In k—kin… kin… der…”

“Kindergarten?”

“Yeah!” He nodded happily.

“Nice to meet you Felix.”

“Nice,” Felix chirped, still smiling.

Sylvain’s class was only in the playroom for recess another ten minutes, and Felix started to tear up again when the older boy’s teacher told everyone to clean up. “Hey, hey, no more crying. No crying on your birthday, remember?” Sylvain said.

“Leaving," Felix whined. His face was already red and blotchy again.

“My class is here every day at recess. So’s yours, right?”

Felix nodded.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll bring my Legos again. We’ll build something really, really cool. Like a big castle.”

Felix smiled again, sniffling and wiping his face. “Cool castle!”

“Yeah, really cool castle. So, no more crying, okay?”

“No cry,” Felix agreed.

Sylvain smiled and his teacher called for him. “I’m coming!” He called, then too Felix, “Happy birthday Felix!” and scampered off to line up with the rest of his class, box of Legos tucked securely under one arm. He turned around and waved at Felix one more time as he left the room.

As he promised, Sylvain was back in the playroom and next day at recess with his box of Legos. As soon as he saw Felix, he jumped up and ran over to him. “Felix! I made this for you.”

He held out a folded piece of orange construction paper. On the front in blue crayon “To: Felix” was written. Felix looked at the card, then back at Sylvain. “Open it up—it’s a card,” Sylvain said.

Felix did as Sylvain asked and opened the card. Inside was “Happy late birthday Felix!” in capital letters, written in glitter--which immediately got all over Felix's hands. Surrounding the words were a bunch of little animal stickers, and balloons drawn in crayon. “From, Sylvain,” was written at the bottom in the same blue crayon as the front. 

“I made it for you last night. I picked orange for your eyes, they're really cool! And friends should always give each other cards on their birthdays.”

Felix looked up. “Friend?”

Sylvain nodded. “Yeah! You’re my friend now.”

Felix grinned. “Friend!”

The smaller boy lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Sylvain, hugging him tight. “My friend! My friend! My friend!”

**_Eight_ **

_“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Felix…”_

“You have to make a wish!” Dimitri said from over his shoulder.

“You should wish to get taller!” Glenn said from across the table.

“Glenn, be nice,” his father scolded.

Felix stuck his tongue out at his brother, and totally wasn’t thinking about growing taller than him as he blew out the candle on his cake.

The crowd in the room clapped, the Rodrigue plucked out the large “8” candle in the center and started cutting up the cake. “Birthday boy gets the first slice.”

Felix took his piece and immediately separated the soft part of the cake from the icing. Felix’s friends—Dimitri, Ingrid, and Sylvain—took next, and followed Felix into the living room with their paper plates and plastic forks. Glenn followed a minute later, with a larger slice of cake on his own plate.

“Why do you get a bigger piece?” Felix complained. “It’s _my_ birthday.”

“I’m older than you,” Glenn said, ruffling Felix’s hair as he passed him to plop down on the couch.

“Felix!” Dimitri got his attention. “What do you wanna do?”

“Did you guys bring your Pokèmon cards?”

“My dad has mine! I’ll go get them!” Dimitri said and ran back to the kitchen.

Ingrid pulled her own cards from her pocket, and Sylvain frowned. “I left mine at home, actually. I’ll watch you guys play though!”

Felix didn’t like that idea— _everyone_ should be able to play. “You can borrow my new ones,” he said, grabbing two shiny gift bags off the couch—one from his father and Glenn, the other from Sylvain—pulling out the tissue paper to get to the newly opened packs of cards.

“Noooooo,” Sylvain whined. “I got those for you, Fefe.”

“Then I get to decide what to do with them,” Felix said. “And I want everyone to play, so I want you to borrow them.”

Sylvain relented just as Dimitri returned. Glenn, having finished his cake, stood up and went to go upstairs. “I might as well play too. I might even let one of you win a round.”

“It’s my birthday! So, you gotta let me win!”

“Well that’s no fun,” Glenn yelled over the banister before disappearing up the stairs.

Felix did win most of the games—Ingrid and Sylvain were definitely letting him win more often than not, and Dimitri just wasn’t very good. Glenn wiped the floor with him, but Felix managed to claim a few victories.

Felix tried not to cry when, a couple hours later, his friends started to get picked up. “’I want you to stay,” he whined.

“We can come back another day,” Sylvain said.

“Yeah!” Dimitri said. “We see each other almost every day.”

“And hey, you still have me here,” Glenn said, throwing an arm across his brother’s shoulders. Felix squirmed away before it could turn into a headlock.

“Don’t be too mean to him, Glenn,” Ingrid chided.

“He’s my brother, it’s my job.”

“I’ll try to come over after school tomorrow,” Sylvain said.

“Promise?” Felix asked.

“Promise. Hope you had fun!”

His friends finished filing out soon after, and his relatives left not long after. Felix found himself on the living room couch, sorting through his gifts. Glenn flopped down next to him, almost sending Felix to the floor when the cushion bounced. “Did you have fun?”

Felix smiled at him. “Yeah! Lotta fun.”

Glenn ruffled his brother’s hair. “Good. Happy birthday, little man.”

**_Ten_ **

It was Felix’s first birthday without his mother.

The last year had been rough, and Felix wasn’t up to celebrating anything. His mom had gotten sick, and only got worse as time went on. Felix didn’t entirely understand what was happening, but it had scared him. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. But she just got sicker, and she died a few months before Felix would turn ten.

His father wanted to throw him a birthday party, because it was still Felix’s birthday and he wanted to cheer the boy up. Even Glenn, who had been “too old for kid stuff” since he had started high school a few months ago, offered to do whatever silly thing Felix wanted to do.

“I don’t want to do anything,” Felix told them. “I want Mom to be here. Mom’s _always_ here.”

The conversation always ended with Felix crying on whoever was trying to talk to him. He never stopped until he’d cried himself to sleep.

That was the first year that Rodrigue hadn’t invited family for Felix’s birthday. He knew the inevitable condolences from relatives, while well-meaning, wouldn’t be received well. He and Glenn tried to talk Felix into at least having some friends over, but the young boy wouldn’t budge.

 _“I don’t want to have a birthday without Mom! It’s like you don’t even care!”_ he’d snapped, locking his bedroom door and only leaving for school and meals.

His birthday was on a Tuesday that year. He considered playing sick and staying home from school—he knew his teacher and his classmates would have cards for him, and he’d get to wear the class’s birthday hat for the day, but he didn’t want any of it. He didn’t _want_ to celebrate anything. It had been a few months, but the loss of his mother was still fresh. It felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest that refused to fill back up. He had his moments when he seemed to forget the feeling for a time, times when he could be happy with his brother and father, or with his friends, but the feeling always returned.

Felix decided to go for it and pretended not to be feeling well when he woke up that morning. He’d never been a good liar, and he could tell his father saw right through him, but Rodrigue simply nodded and allowed Felix to stay home. In return, Felix allowed him and Glenn to sing “Happy Birthday” after dinner. Rodrigue offer him a box of cinnamon cookies, in lieu of a cake, and allowed Felix to bring them upstairs to his room.

A few hours later, well after the boy’s bedtime, there was a knock at his window. Felix startled, nearly tumbling out of bed in fright, before he recognized the shock of red hair on the other side of the glass. He ran over to the window, throwing it open and looking at Sylvain, who was crouched on a tree branch that looked too thin to be bearing his weight. “Sylvain! It’s late, what are you doing?”

“You didn’t come to school today,” Sylvain said. “And when I called your dad, he said you were sick. I wanted to come check on you—and wish you a happy birthday.”

Felix frowned and his eyes burned, tears beginning to gather at the corners of them. Sylvain was immediately alarmed. “Hey, hey, don’t cry Fefe, why’re you crying?’

“My… my Mom isn’t here.” He sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes with his pajama sleeve. “How am I supposed to celebrate my birthday without her?”

“Oh, Felix…” Sylvain pressed a hand to the window screen. “Hey, can you let me in? I wanna give you a hug.”

Felix nodded, wiping his face again before unlatching the screen and leaning it against the wall beside the window. Sylvain easily slipped inside and pulled Felix into a tight hug. “It’s okay Fefe.”

They ended up in Felix’s bed, the younger boy curled up tight against Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain held him close and let him cry and vent. Felix knew he had already said most of these things before, but Sylvain didn’t stop him, never interrupted. The only sign that the other boy was still awake was the steady rhythm of his fingers sliding through Felix’s hair.

The next morning, if Rodrigue saw Sylvain still asleep in Felix’s bed, he didn’t say anything.

**_Fourteen_ **

“My dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Goodness, I’m sorry Felix—”

“The fucking controller was one thing—”

“I’ll pay for it—”

“With what money?!”

“I’ll figure something out—”

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble—”

Felix was trying not to have a breakdown. He was a teenager now—too old to be crying like a baby—but it was a near thing. He knew he shouldn’t have invited Dimitri, he always—

“Hey, what’s going on down here?” Glenn’s voice followed the thump of footsteps coming down the stairs, and the older boy froze when he saw what happened. His eyes immediately darted to Felix. “Dad’s gonna kill you.”

“ _You_ were supposed to be watching us—” Felix challenged

“You’re fourteen Felix—”

“You’re eighteen you’re an _actual_ _literal_ _adult_ —”

“I’m not an adult and we both know it—"

“But you were upstairs all night—”

“You don’t need a babysitter anymore—”

“So really it’s your fault—”

“Guys, can we please stop?” Ingrid yelled over them. “There’s no point in fighting over whose fault it is.”

“I’m not getting in trouble for this,” Felix said, pointing to the shattered living room window next to the TV. On the wall unit, next to his Wii console, was a crushed Wii remote—courtesy of Dimitri when Sylvain decided to scare him earlier. The blond had been holding the controller, and had clenched his fists when he jumped. Unfortunately for the poor controller, Dimitri had a freakishly strong grip. Felix wanted to cut him off then—they all _knew_ Dimitri had a tendency to break things, Felix should’ve made him bring his own damn controller—but Ingrid and Sylvain talked him out of it. That led to two rounds later, when Dimitri lost his grip and swung the damn thing so hard the wrist strap snapped, and the controller went clear through the window and halfway to the sidewalk.

“I’ll tell him it was my fault,” Dimitri said. “And I will pay for the controllers and the window. I’m really sorry Felix—”

“Will. You. S _hut. Up,”_ Felix snapped. His head was starting to buzz, every little sound and off-beat movement was starting to frustrate him, getting to be too much. He was going to be on the edge of a full-blown shutdown or meltdown if he didn't calm down soon.

“I mean, if you don’t want to get in trouble—”

“Shut up, Glenn.”

“Shut up, pipsqueak.”

Felix just shot a glare at his brother before collapsing on the couch, face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. I can’t believe we broke the fucking window—”

“Felix…”

“Yes, Dimitri, I know!” Felix snapped without looking up. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s _my fucking window, and it's still fucking broken.”_

“You really like saying ‘fuck,’ don’t you?” Sylvain said.

“Shut up Sylvain.”

“Damn, we’re three for four right now, only person you haven’t told to shut up is—”

“Ingrid, tell Sylvain to shut up.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Ingrid said, arms crossed over her chest.

Felix made a high-pitched distressed noise, and his friends promptly— _finally—_ shut up. They had learned to recognize the difference between "shut up, I'm grumpy" and "shut up, I'm getting overwhelmed." He kept his face in his hands, aggressively fighting back tears. He wasn’t going to cry; he wasn’t going to sit here and cry like a baby in front of his friends _on his birthday._ He wasn’t going to do it, he wasn’t going to cry, he wouldn’t cry, and he wasn’t going to meltdown either. No crying, no meltdowns, he should’ve grown out of this by now, right? He was going to stay calm and figure this out. So, he couldn’t cry, and he had to keep talking and keep his temper in check. And he absolutely wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t—

Instead, he grabbed one of the couch pillows, shoved his face in it, and screamed as loud as he could. The living room remained silent—thank the fucking Goddess. Then Glenn spoke from beside him. “Hey short-stack, why don’t we go upstairs for a few minutes, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Felix said, not lifting his face from the pillow.

“Sure, whatever you say. But humor me, will you?” Glenn said.

“I’m not. Not a…” He internally cursed himself. Words were getting too hard, that was a bad sign. “Lit… little kid anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need a break sometimes. Now c’mon, just humor me, okay?”

Felix hummed angrily, then removed his face from the pillow and scrubbed at his eyes, damning the wet spots he felt.

“You okay with touch?” Glenn asked, holding his hand out.

Felix paused, then nodded. Glenn put a grounding hand on Felix’s shoulder and led him upstairs. “Try not to make any more trouble, okay?” he called over his shoulder at the three remaining teens.

Felix was trying to hold on to the anger he felt, because if he could ground himself with something he wouldn’t completely break down, but he wasn’t really mad to begin with, and once his head started buzzing it was usually too late. Everything was _too much_ especially with everyone yelling over each other, and the living room was too small to avoid everyone jostling each other around and every unexpected touch or sound was too much _too much too much_ —

“You there, kid?” Glenn’s soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

They were in Felix’s room, sitting on the edge of his bed, Glenn offering him a water bottle. “Y-yeah,” Felix croaked out and accepted the drink.

“You up to talking?”

Felix opened his mouth to respond, and then shook his head. He was going to be completely nonverbal any second now.

“Okay. Where’s your phone?”

Felix pointed back out the door, and a few yes/no questions later Glenn had established it should be on the couch. He returned a short moment later and handed it to Felix, who immediately began typing. Glenn’s phone buzzed a second later.

_‘I hate this.’_

“The meltdown or the window?”

_‘Yes.’_

“Okay, pretty much what I expected. You know Dad isn’t really going to be mad about the window though. And you’re not even the one who broke it.”

_‘It DID get broken though and so did the controllers.’_

Glenn looked at him for a moment, then, “You’re not worried about _you_ getting in trouble, are you?”

Felix’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, like he was trying to think of a response, before letting out a frustrated exhale and flopping down on his back.

“That’s what I figured. You don’t want anyone to take the blame, that it?”

Felix groaned, which pretty much meant “yes.” Then he started furiously typing again.

_‘i know the old man isnt going to get on our asses about it but if i say that i did it im gonna be in trouble and if dimitri takes the fall hes gonna be in trouble and i know hell find some way to pay for the window and the controller but i dont want him to have to I hate that sad look he gets when he breaks something and he hates disappointing people and if any of this gets around to SYLVAINS family hes going to be in trouble no matter whose fault it is and you were supposed to be watching us so youre probably going to hear it from dad and this whole thing is just. Bad. i dont like this I dont know what to do.’_

Glenn sighed after reading Felix’s rant, leaning back on one elbow so he could run his fingers through Felix’s hair. “Yeah, this whole thing sucks. So, uh, order of complaints: you—yeah, if you take the fall, Dad’ll be upset. But let’s be real—Dimitri will come clean no matter what—everyone knows the kid can’t lie.” Felix groaned again. “I don’t think there’s much we can do about him. But Dad and Uncle Lam won’t be _that_ pissed. A little disappointed, yeah, but not pissed. Honestly? I’m pretty sure he’ll just have to pick up extra chores or something and buy a new controller with his allowance. As for Sylvain—I’m sure the adults can keep quiet. They… well, we all know not to tell his dad literally anything, ever.”

The phone came back out. _‘I still dont want anyone to be in trouble.’_

“I get it, but sometimes, shit sucks, you know?”

_‘ >:(‘_

“Won't even glare at me yourself?”

Felix turned his head slightly and growled, glaring at Glenn. The older boy laughed, which managed to coax a puff of a laugh from Felix.

“So, Dad probably isn’t going to be home for another couple of hours. What do you want to do? Your friends are still downstairs, should I send them home?”

Felix shook his head.

“You ready to go back downstairs?”

He shook his head again.

“Okay. You want them to stay in the living room while you calm down?”

Felix nodded.

“Want me to stay?”

Felix hesitated, then shrugged. Glenn chuckled. “It’s okay if you want me to. I’m not gonna leave my baby bro to deal with a meltdown all by himself.”

_'I'm not a little kid anymore.'_

"Yeah, I know. Trust me Fefe, I know you're not a little kid, even if you are my baby brother. But that doesn't mean you're not allowed to be upset over things, or have meltdowns, or need someone to help you out."

Felix made a long humming sound, ending with an indifferent grunt. He rolled over and curled up in the middle of the bed, grabbing one edge of the blanket and wrapping it around himself. Glenn shifted so he was sitting next to him, and Felix immediately reached out to grab his wrist and tug it back to his hair. “Gimme a second Fe, I’m just shooting your friends a text so they know we’re not dead up here.”

Felix made an annoyed humming sound. It instantly changed to a content sigh when Glenn started petting his hair again—one of the most consistent ways of calming Felix down and helping to ground him again. They stayed like that for the next half hour, Glenn with one hand in Felix’s hair and his phone in the other; Felix playing mindless rhythm games on his phone. He finally spoke up. “Back.”

“Back?” Glenn asked.

“Words… come… come… ing… back.” His tone was completely flat, and his words sounded choppy, broken up by syllable, but that was normal when he was coming out of a nonverbal episode.

“Feeling better then?”

“Little.”

“Wanna stay a little longer or wanna go back downstairs?”

Felix hummed for a moment, then, “Downstairs.”

“Okay.”

His friends looked relieved when Felix made his way back to the living room, Glenn right behind him. “Felix!” Sylvain practically hurdled the couch. “Hey, you feeling okay?” He reached out to hug him but froze before he made contact. “Wait, uh, can I…?”

“Yes.”

Sylvain pulled him into a tight hug. Felix leaned against him, but his arms remained at his sides. “Talking now?”

Felix waved his hand in a so-so gesture.

“Glenn said you were okay with us staying?” Dimitri asked, coming up behind Sylvain.

“Yes.”

“You’re feeling okay enough?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes. I’m—” His face scrunched up as he reprocessed how to form the word. “Fine. I’m okay.”

“What are we going to do about—” Dimitri started to ask, but stopped when he saw Glenn aggressively shaking his head and drawing a line across his throat with his finger (he’d later unlock his phone to find a text from Glenn: _‘He finally calmed down dumbass don’t set him off again_ ’).

“What do you want to do now, Felix?” Ingrid asked, trying to cover Dimitri’s slip-up.

Felix hummed in thought. “Movie.”

“I’ll log into our Netflix,” Glenn said, walking over to set it up. “Lemme know if you want to watch something not on there, okay Fe?”

Felix nodded. 

“I’ll make some popcorn,” Sylvain said. "You want anything else, Fe?"

Fifteen minutes later, the four friends were piled on the living room couch as some bad action movie played on the TV. Felix was squished in between Sylvain and Dimitri, half on the former’s lap and resting his head on the other’s shoulder. Sylvain had one arm thrown across the back of the couch behind both of them, and Ingrid was curled up on Dimitri’s other side. Felix had cocooned himself in blankets and filled up on popcorn and cold pizza, and was, ultimately, feeling much better than he had earlier.

When Rodrigue came home a little before midnight, he found the four teens asleep on the sofa and Glenn in the armchair nearby. The latter didn't look up from his phone when he started speaking.

“Dimitri did it, apologized about a million times, if I’m low-balling it. Don’t let Gautier hear about it. Felix had a meltdown, but he was good when they fell asleep. I don’t have the heart to wake him.”

Rodrigue sighed. “Always an adventure here, isn’t it?”

**_Fifteen_ **

Felix wished everyone would just forget about his stupid birthday. His dad was insisting on throwing him a party, even though he was too old for them. And he didn’t exactly have many friends to invite. He wasn’t talking to Dimitri anymore, and he didn’t want to be stuck in a room with Ingrid and Sylvain longer than he had to be. Or, just Sylvain probably—Ingrid would probably spend half the night following Glenn around like a lost puppy (Felix didn’t know what she saw in him—Ingrid could barely stand Felix these days, but Glenn was just as rude as he was. Ruder, probably). He’d made friends with a girl named Annette in his Biology class—she had these cute little songs she made up to remember things, and Felix thought it was far too cute (and exceedingly helpful)—but he _absolutely did not_ want Glenn to know. He would relentlessly tease Felix about his “little girlfriend,” even though he did not feel that way about Annette, and he was pretty sure he didn’t like girls anyway. But whatever. Point stands: Felix has exactly 3.5 friends and Glenn’s a dick.

So, he didn’t really want a birthday party.

More reason to forget his birthday: it was on a Monday that year. No amount of “happy birthday” messages could make him less annoyed when his alarm blared at five am. Although, the coffee Sylvain shoved in his hand when he picked Felix up that morning did help a little.

“Happy birthday, sunshine,” the redhead chirped, far too energetic for this time of morning.

Felix grunted, taking the coffee with one hand while he yanked the passenger door closed with the other (perks of older friends—they can drive).

“Not even a ‘thank you’ for the coffee? You wound me, Fe.”

Felix flipped him off, then chugged half the cup in the time it took Sylvain to drive to the corner of the street. “Damn, late night?”

“Sylvain. It is six-thirty in the fucking morning. Anyone who isn’t still half-asleep isn’t human.”

“I’m not still half-asleep.”

“Your point?”

Sylvain gasped in mock offense but smiled when Felix let out a huff he recognized as a laugh.

“Hey, I know what’ll perk you up—let’s hang out after school, I got another present for you.”

Felix quirked an eyebrow. “My present wasn’t the coffee? Should I be flattered that Sylvain Gautier is spending more than three dollars on me?”

“Okay first off that coffee cost—well, never mind, but I know you like a lot of espresso and they charge per shot. Second—I get people _very_ good gifts, thank you very much.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Felix said before chugging the last of the coffee. Sylvain was right though—he always came through with gifts. For his friends, anyway. As much as Felix griped about people making such a big deal over a stupid day, he’d never been disappointed with a gift from Sylvain.

“You’ll have to wait for me though, I have fencing practice until five,” Felix said.

“Yeah, it’s Monday, I know. Squad’s meeting after school too. Coach says it’s only going to be until four-thirty, but that really means closer to five-thirty. She never ends on time.”

“With you and Hilda there, I’m surprised you get done that early.”

“Hey, Hilda and I are the most dedicated cheerleaders on the team—” Felix snorted. “—we’re both bases. We slack off, someone gets a concussion. That’s why Dorothea was out for a while last year.”

“I thought someone else dropped her?”

“I never said _I_ did it,” Sylvain said. “Although I was part of the base… but I actually _did_ catch her! But, well, one person does not a pyramid make.”

A beat, then, “You know, you should join cheer. You’d make a great flier, since you’re so small, and you’d look absolutely adorable in—”

“If I had any coffee left, I’d dump it on your head, Gautier.”

Throughout the day Felix weathered the annoyingly bright “happy birthday!” wishes when he passed his friends in the hall, grudgingly accepting the hand-made and store-bought cards shoved in his face. He even accepted Dimitri’s and didn’t throw it out five seconds later (he hated to admit, it was kind of cute. Made from printer paper with doodles in colored pencil all over it—mostly of cats, and a stupidly cute pig face next to Dimitri’s signature. Damn that boar). He will admit though—the small amounts of cash that usually came with the cards weren’t bad.

He worked off his frustrated energy during his workout and fencing practice. By the time he was showered and waiting outside for Sylvain, he was feeling a bit better. He could have waited inside by the gym, but the cold February air felt good on his face. There was something cleansing about taking a deep breath of the biting air, feeling it chill his throat and fill his lungs, and watching it mist in the air as he exhaled.

Sylvain showed up at five-thirty on the dot, his hair still dripping from the shower and his face red. “Hey Fe! You ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready for a half hour,” Felix said as he followed Sylvain to his car.

The older boy unlocked it and Felix slid into the passenger’s seat, then poked his head back out the door when Sylvain didn’t follow. He saw him circle to the back of the car and pop the trunk, pulling out a plastic shopping bag. “You’ve had it in your car all day?” Felix questioned. “I thought they were at your house or something.”

“Felix, since when have I ever left anything of value at my house?” Sylvain deadpanned.

“I thought—”

“My father is just as bad,” he said flatly. “I think they’ve both spent more time in my room over the years than I have.” His tone brightened considerably when he slammed the trunk and walked back to Felix. “But never mind, yeah, I’ve had these all day, but I didn’t want to make you carry it all day, so here you go, happy birthday.”

Felix took the bag, untying the knot at the top as Sylvain slid into the driver’s seat. Inside were about half a dozen video games—all the one’s he’d been trying to convince his dad to buy him, but he insisted they were “too graphic” for someone his age (he was fifteen for fuck’s sake—he’d seen violence and he knew what sex was, he just wanted to play GTA IV—which he happily spotted in the bag). “Holy shit, Syl.”

“You like it?”

Sylvain had that eager puppy look on his face, open and looking for approval. Felix couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah, I like it, these are really cool. How’d you get them anyway? Don’t they ID for M rated games?”

“I turn eighteen in a couple months, and the guy behind the counter thought I was cute, but that’s not the point—you really like them?”

“Fuck yeah,” Felix said, tying the bag closed again and shoving it in his backpack. “I just need to find a spot where my old man won’t see them.” He was quiet for a second, then, “Thanks, Sylvain.”

The redhead smiled. “Of course. Happy birthday, Felix.”

**_Twenty-one_ **

Felix fucked up.

He knew this was a bad idea, he never should’ve let them take him out to a bar. Of course, it was his twenty-first, so he knew Sylvain planned on getting him hammered (as if he’d never had a drink before)—but _fuck._

“Felix? Are you hiding in here?”

“Go away, Boar,” Felix snapped from inside one of the filthy bathroom stalls.

He could hear the frown in Dimitri’s voice. “Everyone is worried about you. You ran off so quickly we thought you had gotten sick.”

“I’m—” He stopped. If he claimed he was sick, he could get someone to take him back to campus and he’d be out of this mess. He’d be able to figure out what the fuck to do when he was sober. When he knew if Sylvain would remember tonight or not.

But that meant he’d have to sit in a car with Dimitri to get home, because he knew the damn sober Boar wouldn’t let him go back to their dorm building alone while he was “sick.” And he’d want to know what happened, and fret over Felix like some kind of mother hen. Which would inevitably lead to Felix saying something ruder than usual and having to look at Dimitri’s kicked-puppy face. And Dimitri wouldn’t say anything to him, but Felix would feel like shit, because Dimitri was just trying to help, and Felix was being a little shit. Then in the morning he’d have to apologize, and Dimitri would accept it, but Felix would still feel like an ass.

But if he left the bathroom, he’d have to see Sylvain.

His stomach rolled and Felix thought he might actually get sick.

“Felix?” Dimitri was right outside the stall now. “Are you alright?”

Felix sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll be out in a couple minutes, okay? Tell everyone they can stop freaking out now.”

“Alright. Um, just, call me if you need me…?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine, Dimitri.”

There was a beat of silence before Felix heard Dimitri leave the bathroom. Felix let out a frustrated exhale and hit his forehead against the stall door.

He should’ve kept better count of his drinks. Or, of Sylvain’s maybe. He forgot just how… _affectionate_ the redhead got when he was drunk. He would get clingier than usual—which was saying something—and his flirting went up to one hundred.

Which was how Felix ended up in the middle of the dance floor, making out with the guy he’d been crushing on since high school.

Honestly? Kissing Sylvain was fucking _phenomenal,_ and Felix would give his right arm to be able to do it again. And he’s pretty sure drunk Sylvain would let him, free of charge.

But that was the thing— _drunk_ Sylvain would. There was no way in hell he would’ve done that sober. Sylvain wasn’t into him—did Sylvain even like guys? Felix had seen the redhead flirt with men before, but he never dated any. His partners were a never-ending merry-go-round of girls who hadn’t realized he was a jerk yet, and it had been that way since high school. Sylvain had flirted with Felix before, but that’s just how Sylvain _was._ He’d flirted with Dimitri and Ingrid too; and Sylvain’s friends Hilda, Claude, and Dorothea were the same way, and often confused people who didn’t know all four of them were single.

So, yeah, Sylvain was just drunk. _Really_ drunk, apparently, if he’d decided to make out with Felix in the middle of a crowded bar.

Felix sighed and pulled his phone out. He had several missed texts from his friends—mostly Annette and Sylvain. He dismissed the notifications and checked the time—seven minutes past twelve. Officially February twentieth. “Happy fucking birthday,” Felix muttered to himself, before exiting the stall, washing his hands, and bracing himself to go face the others.

He didn’t stay much longer after that—he was staring to get tired, and he knew he had been starting to reach his drink limit before he’d potentially ruined a life-long friendship. By one a.m. he was standing outside the bar, pulling out his phone to order and Uber back to campus. The cold air cleared his head a little and released some of the tension of being in such a crowded place for so long.

“Hey Fe, can I talk to you?”

Of course, Sylvain found him. _Of fucking course._ Because the universe couldn’t be nice to Felix for ten minutes, could it?

“I’m tired Syl, I’m heading home.”

“We can talk while you wait.”

Felix grunted, not denying or encouraging him. Sylvain came over to lean against the wall beside him. From the corner of his eye, Felix saw Sylvain run his hand through his hair and bite his lip. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry. For… for back there.”

Felix forced himself to keep looking at his phone. “We don’t need to talk about it. Not like you’ll remember in the morning.”

“Huh?”

“How many drinks did you have, Sylvain?”

“Not that many?!” Sylvain said. “I didn’t keep count, but I can handle my alcohol. I’m not blackout Fe. Do I _sound_ like I’m that drunk?”

No, he didn’t, but Felix wasn’t ready to admit that. Sylvain sighed when he didn’t respond. “Felix, I know what I’m doing. I’m a little drunk, yeah, but I’m not wasted—and what happened on the dance floor wasn’t because of the beer.”

“I can’t think of another reason for that.”

Sylvain sighed again. “Okay, this probably wasn’t the best way to do this. I did kiss you because I’m a little drunk, but less in the ‘I wasn’t thinking’ way and more in the ‘the part of my brain that makes me scared to do stuff went to sleep already’ kind of way.”

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just spit it out already,” Felix snapped.

“I’m saying I like you Felix. Like, more than a friend. I shouldn’t have waited until you were drinking to say something, but when we were dancing I just… you looked so happy and beautiful and next thing I knew I was asking and you said yes, and then you sprinted to the bathroom before I could say anything and—”

“Sylvain.” He immediately stopped talking. “You… are you being serious right now? Sylvain ‘has never dated someone for more than two weeks’ Gautier is admitting feelings for me?”

He forgot that Sylvain also had the kicked-puppy face and Felix tried not to look. The redhead rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the sidewalk. “I… yeah, I guess it doesn’t sound great when you put it that way. Listen, if you don’t feel the same way I—”

“I never said that,” Felix said before he could stop himself.

Sylvain’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I… dammit might as well if we’re getting all fuckin’ sappy outside a bar at one in the morning. I’ve had a crush on you since high school. Maybe even before then. Do you remember when I came out?”

“Officially? You told me your sophomore year.”

“Yeah. I started questioning about two years before that. Three guesses what else happened that year.”

Sylvain thought for a second, and Felix could see the moment it clicked. “Oh… that’s the year I started cheerleading, isn’t it?”

Felix nodded. “If that wasn’t a gay awakening, I don’t know what was.”

A dopey, lopsided grin spread across Sylvain’s face. “Aw, Fe, I’m flattered. That’s a life goal honestly—look hot enough to make a guy question his sexuality.”

Felix snorted. “But yeah. And honestly? I’m only admitting this because I’m pretty sure at least one of us won’t remember this in the morning.”

Sylvain laughed. “Yeah, sounds like the only way to get a love confession out of you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Please?”

Felix nearly dropped his phone and choked on his own spit. Sylvain started laughing again and slapped Felix on the back as he coughed. “Easy Fe, can’t have you dropping dead on your birthday.”

Felix flipped him off.

“I’m serious though,” Sylvain said when Felix finally caught his breath. “I know my track record isn’t great, but I care about you a lot, Fe. I have since we were kids. And knowing you feel the same, well, want to give it a shot?”

Felix remained silent for a moment, long enough that Sylvain started to squirm. Then Felix shoved his phone in the other man’s face. “Type in your address.”

Felix was in the middle of ordering an Uber. Sylvain looked at him for a second and Felix raised an eyebrow. The other man typed quickly, and Felix took his phone back. He finished ordering the Uber and leaned back against the wall. He turned back to Sylvain. “Kiss me again?”

Sylvain smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Felix woke up late the next morning, not nearly as hungover and he thought he’d be. And he fully remembered the previous night. Beside him, Sylvain was lightly snoring, lying on his side facing Felix with one long arm thrown over the smaller man’s waist. Felix sighed. Alright, they were going to have this conversation when he was awake.

As if reading his thoughts, Sylvain pulled Felix closer to him, nuzzling his face against the curve of Felix’s neck. Felix sighed, smiling fondly.

He reached back over to the nightstand to grab his phone and saw several new texts from Annette.

**Tuesday, February 20 th, 9:48 a.m.**

**Annie <3: **YOU AND SYLVAIN ARE DATING NOW?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!?

**_Twenty-four_ **

Sylvain was planning something.

Well, that wasn’t an odd thing—the redheaded devil was always planning something. This was a fact Felix had learned early in their childhood—as much as the man pretended that he had exactly one brain cell, he was clever. Felix was pretty sure the rest of his brain cells were usually just on vacation.

He digressed. The fact still stands: he’s planning something, and Felix knew he was at the center of it. February was a hazardous month to begin with, and it’s only escalated since the pair started dating.

Sylvain, thank the Goddess, hadn’t gone overboard for Valentine’s Day. Of course, Felix had come home to a bouquet of flowers (gladiolus, of course—Felix couldn’t turn down a flower nicknamed “sword lily.”), a box of spicy chocolates, and a home-cooked steak dinner. Felix had left a pop-up Hallmark card on Sylvain’s nightstand before he left for work that morning, along with one of those corny pink teddy bears with hearts on it (the next day, Felix found Sylvain cuddled up with it during a nap. He couldn’t deny the jolt of fondness in his chest, and quickly snapped a picture with his phone). And naturally, Sylvain had plans for after dinner, but Felix wasn’t objecting to that.

The low-key Valentine’s wouldn’t have been so suspicious if Sylvain hadn’t been so… _quiet_ the following week. Honestly, Felix would be fine with it if Sylvain had somehow forgotten. But unless he got a concussion recently, that was impossible. In twenty-odd years, Sylvain had never once failed to do something for Felix’s birthday. He still remembered the year Sylvain climbed through his fucking window in the middle of the night so he could see him.

Dimitri apparently knew something, if the way he was getting jumpy around Felix that week was any indication. Felix decided to confront him, slamming his hands down on the kitchen table while Dimitri was working on something. The larger man startled so bad he nearly toppled off the chair. “What’s Sylvain planning?”

Dimitri started stammering as he righted himself, single blue eye darting around the room, looking anywhere but Felix’s face. “I—I uh don’t I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix. Why would—why would Sylvain be planning something?”

“You are the worst liar in the history of the world,” Felix deadpanned. “I know you know something, it’s written all over your face, so spill.”

Dimitri’s eye flickered in the direction of Sylvain and Felix’s room for a second before coming back to Felix’s face. He seemed to decide that was a mistake and became very interested in the woodgrain patterns on the table.

“Dimitri. You both know I hate surprises, so spill. He’s not throwing me a fucking surprise party again, is he?” Sylvain had tried that the year after they started dating. While Felix did, ultimately, have a good time, he made Sylvain promise to never do it again.

Dimitri’s hesitance confirmed his suspicions and Felix groaned. “Goddess above, not again.”

“I—I never said he was throwing out a party…” Dimitri stammered.

“Again, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life. What night is he planning it for? I might as well be prepared.”

After a few more minutes of interrogation, Felix figured out that Sylvain was planning something for Friday, the day after his birthday. Well, better than taking him to a bar on a Monday night in the middle of the school year.

Anyway.

He was only a _little_ suspicious when Dimitri seemed determined to keep him out of their apartment on Wednesday. It was after dark when the pair finally pulled up outside the complex, after running two dozen errands. “Finally. I thought we were never going to get home.” Felix jumped out of the car and glanced at Dimitri when he didn’t follow. “You coming?”

“I’m actually going to spent the night at Marianne’s. You have your key, right?”

“Yeah. Uh, drive safe I guess,” Felix said before heading inside.

The lights were off when he opened the door to their apartment.

“Hey Felix,” Sylvain chimed from what sounded like the kitchen.

“You’re home already?”

“I got out early today. C’mere, I got a surprise for you.”

“My birthday isn’t until tomorrow, you know,” Felix said as he tossed his coat on the couch.

“I know, but come here already,” Sylvain whined.

Felix rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile a little as he walked to the kitchen. “Smells good, what did you—”

He cut off abruptly at the sight of Sylvain casually leaning back against the counter, in a pair of black skinny jeans too tight to be legal and one of his muscle shirts. His hair was artfully disheveled, and he had that insufferable smirk on his face. The room was lit by string lights and an assortment of candles, giving the room a close and intimate feel. “I made us dinner. I made your favorite—come have a taste.”

“Sylvain, you are going to kill me one day,” Felix breathed.

Sylvain chuckled. “Huh, usually you’re threatening to kill me. I can’t tell if this is an improvement or not.”

“Just shut up,” he said, putting his hands on the taller man’s hips and leaning up to kiss him.

“Come on, let’s eat before the food gets cold,” Sylvain said after a minute.

Felix relented, sitting at the table while Sylvain brought the food over. Sylvain was a ridiculously good cook, which never failed to surprise Felix. It was a good thing though—Felix wasn’t going to object to his favorite dinner.

“Are we celebrating my birthday early, then?”

Sylvain chuckled. “Well, we’re _starting_ the celebration early. I had to keep you out of the house while I cooked and got everything together.”

“I have a feeling ‘everything’ is more than the candles.”

“Don’t worry, there’s no surprise party. Tonight, and tomorrow, it’s just going to be you and me. Maybe a few of us together on Saturday.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, then sighed. “You played Dimitri, didn’t you?”

Sylvain snorted. “If I was actually planning a surprise party, you think I’d tell him?”

“Fair point.”

“He did know the party thing was a lie, but I didn’t tell him _what_ I was planning. I knew you were going to grill him. And hey, I managed to surprise you, didn’t I?”

Felix smiled. “Yes, I suppose so. I guess I can tolerate a surprise once in a while.”

“Good, because I love surprising you. I actually have another one when you’re done eating—I got it stashed in the bedroom.”

“If you bought me a present, it better be a sword.” He realized what he said a second too late.

“Oh, sweetheart, if a sword is all you want—”

Felix flicked a piece of meat at him with his spoon and Sylvain just laughed. Felix smiled again.

Sometimes, birthdays weren’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Kudos/Comments are really appreciated :)


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